


There's a monster in my bed

by capeofstorm



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff, M/M, Pack Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-22
Updated: 2012-08-22
Packaged: 2017-11-12 16:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capeofstorm/pseuds/capeofstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, the five times Stiles woke up beside a pack member and the one time he woke up beside Derek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's a monster in my bed

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to intrepidy for beta and Ameri-pick! <3

1\. **Scott**

It wasn’t the first time Stiles woke up besides Scott. 

They used to have slumber parties (his mom always teased him about that, saying those were slumber parties, not sleepovers and it stuck) when they were kids, ever since the first week they met. Mrs. McCall was used to finding Scott and Stiles sharing Scott’s bed just as Sheriff Stilinski was used to them sharing Stiles’ bed, limbs tangled close in the small space.

When Scott’s dad walked away, Stiles would beg his parents to let him have Scott sleep over. He and Scott would hide under the covers, talking until their eyes felt like they were made of lead, their words slurring together. Somewhere during the night they would gravitate towards one another, drooling over each other, only to laugh at it when they woke up.

When Stiles’ mom passed away, Scott would make Stiles stay over at his house, feed him peanut butter cupcakes until Stiles felt like he was going to throw up. Then they would get under the covers and Scott would take Stiles’ hand, squeezing his fingers tightly.

“I’m here, Stiles,” he would say as Stiles drifted off to sleep, exhausted.

They wouldn’t mention it when Stiles would wake Scott up at night with his sobs, only quieting down when Scott hugged him from behind, his arms tight around Stiles, his head resting between Stiles’ shoulder blades.

Stiles woke up with Scott wrapped around him, their legs tangled together. He grimaced as he got up to pee. When he came back, Scott was sprawled all over Stiles’ bed, snoring away. So much for werewolf senses, Stiles snorted. He grabbed the covers and yanked them off Scott only to have Scott whine in his sleep.

Stiles rolled his eyes and grabbed the glass of water from his night stand. He tipped the glass over Scott’s head, grinning as his best friend woke up with a shout and a flail.

“Stiles? What the hell?!”

“Rise and shine, cupcake! It’s a beautiful sunny day and we have so much to do!”

Scott glared at him, his hair wet, clearly unimpressed. He snatched the covers from the ground and plopped back on the bed, covering his face.

“Go away, Derek had me run perimeter last night, I’m tired.”

“I don’t care, tell your Alpha he should give you more free time. We’re gonna have a Halo marathon and we’re gonna have it now. I’ll even make pancakes.”

Stiles watched as Scott inched the covers down his body, looking at him suspiciously.

“With strawberries?”

“Yep.” Stiles popped his lips on the ‘p’. 

“Fine,” Scott said with a yawn, getting up from the bed.

Scott shook his head, droplets of water flying everywhere. Stiles rolled his eyes, making his way downstairs to the kitchen.

“And can you add chocolate chip too?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he yelled back at Scott.

Just a normal Sunday morning then, he thought as he swallowed his Adderall.

2\. **Erica**

Stiles woke up with a groan. 

His whole body felt like it had been run over by a steam roller. Which, honestly, could have happened given the direction his life took after Scott got bitten. His chest felt heavy and he couldn’t move his legs. He opened his eyes swiftly, afraid he was paralyzed only to look at the blonde hair in front of him. That was unusual.

“Uh?”

Erica raised her head from his chest and looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, Stiles?”

“What are you doing? Why are you in bed with me? Not that I don’t appreciate it, you’re a beautiful girl – I mean young lady – uh, I mean woman and really under any other circumstance I would be happy to wake up next to you only I feel like death warmed over twice which somehow I have a feeling has nothing to do with the hypothetical wild monkey kinky sex you want me to think we had.”

Erica snorted, her nose scrunching up. She rested her chin on Stiles’ chest, looking at him with a look of annoyed fondness. He had that effect on people.

“Oh please, that ship has sailed a long time ago, Stilinski. You wish you could get all this.” She gestured towards her body as Stiles tried very hard not to follow the path her hand took.

He might be feeling like crap but he was still a seventeen year old guy who was laying in bed with a very attractive girl. A girl who could rip his throat out with her teeth and damn it, why did Stiles have to have a type? Was he a masochist, really? Lydia, Danny, Erica, De–

Stiles made an assenting noise and Erica snorted.

“I felt like cuddling. Derek told me to stay and watch over you, so you were my only option.”

“Thanks, you just did wonders for my ego there.”

“Any time. Now shut up,” she said as she put her head back on his chest. Her arm tightened across his middle. She wriggled her leg across his hips and chuckling evilly when she felt Stiles stir underneath her.

Erica Reyes was evil incarnate, he decided.

3\. **Boyd**

Stiles blinked sluggishly as his pillow _moved_. 

He raised his head and looked at Boyd who regarded him with amusement.

“Wha?”

He hefted himself up, looking around, taking the situation in. They were at Boyd’s for this week’s pack bonding movie night. It was Peter’s turn to pick a movie and, for some unknown and most likely very disturbing reason, Peter chose _Doctor Zhivago_. Stiles had dozed off after half an hour and his head must have slipped from the back of the couch to rest on Boyd’s shoulder. And chest. And somehow he had ended with his head in Boyd’s lap, his feet in Scott’s lap.

Erica was shooting him amused looks as she carded her fingers through a sleeping Isaac’s hair. Peter was watching the movie – of course he was, that man was a special brand of crazy – and Derek was glaring at Stiles and Boyd as if they offended him mortally, which they probably did because he was a sour wolf who had absolutely no sense of humor or personal space. 

So everything was normal. 

“Um, what did I miss?”

“Not much,” Boyd replied, his hand resting on Stiles’ shoulder, pushing him down. “Two more hours to go, you might as well get some sleep.”

“Philistines,” Peter threw over his shoulder, his eyes glued to the screen.

Stiles shrugged and plopped his head down in Boyd’s lap. Might as well take advantage of the situation, glaring Alpha werewolves or not.

4\. **Isaac**

Stiles woke up because he felt too hot. 

He made a move to kick off his blankets only to realize there was a long leg thrown over his, pinning him down. He looked at the lean arm across his middle and turned his head to glare at Isaac, who slept peacefully. Stiles huffed and poked Isaac on the cheek.

“Isaac.”

Nothing.

“Isaac.” He poked a little harder, his finger leaving a white mark on Isaac’s cheek.

Isaac opened his eyes and glared at Stiles.

“What,” he barked out.

“What are you doing in my bed?”

“Sleeping.”

“Okay, smartass, I will ask it this way: why are you sleeping in my bed?”

“It’s comfortable.” Isaac’s breath hit the side of Stiles’s face, tickling him.

Stiles closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. Fucking werewolves. Fucking werewolves who took to sleeping in his bed, cuddling him. Fucking werewolves who made him feel needed and wanted, who didn’t know what they were getting him into. Fucking werewolves who wouldn’t let him kick off the blankets.

“Really,” he said without infliction, aiming for Derek’s disapproving tone but failing miserably. He was going to blame it on the sleep roughness of his voice.

“Scott’s mom kicked me out. Erica and Boyd are at it like rabbits, I wouldn’t get any sleep. Derek’s place is drafty. Not sure if you’ve noticed but it’s middle of January and it’s cold. Your place at least has a roof over it.”

“I’m sick of you werewolves sleeping with me. I’m not your territory.”

“No, you’re not,” Isaac agreed magnanimously. “Your bed is though.”

Stiles sputtered at that and would have thrown his hands up in the air in exasperation if Isaac wasn’t holding him down. He squirmed in Isaac’s embrace, trying to get away. Isaac only huffed and brought him closer, his arm tightening around Stiles’ middle.

“Go to sleep, we have a chemistry test tomorrow, you need your rest.”

And like that, Isaac was back asleep, snoring softly against the nape of Stiles’s neck.

Fucking territorial werewolves.

5\. **Peter**

Stiles woke up with a start. 

Something wasn’t right. Someone was in his room, watching him. And it wasn’t Derek, he knew how Derek’s staring felt, okay. This was more sinister, more... unhinged. He was afraid to open his eyes because that someone was in his bed. It could be only one person. Stiles opened his eye a bit and jumped out of his bed, pointing at Peter wildly.

“What the fuck are you doing in my bed?!”

Peter had his hands behind his head, his legs crossed at the ankles as he lay there with a creepy leer on his face. Stiles yanked at the covers, trying to get them from under Peter but with no luck. He grabbed his pillow and held it in front of him like a shield.

Peter chuckled at that. The bastard actually chuckled.

“The pups seemed to like sleeping with you. I thought I’d give it a try and see what’s so spectacular about it. Really don’t know what they see in you. You drool.”

Stiles wiped at the corner of his lips, trying to get rid of any damning evidence. He glared at Peter, crossing his arms across the pillow.

“They are taken with my fantastic personality and dashing good looks. Get out of my bed. No, scratch that, get out of my house!”

Peter quirked an eyebrow at him. Was that a werewolf thing? Or a Hale thing? Did they get lessons at their mothers’ knee or something? How the hell could Peter and Derek express so much with a simple quirk of an eyebrow?

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll call Derek.”

Peter tsked and got up from the bed, straightening out his leather (of course it was freaking leather, they all wore leather, even Scott wore leather now) jacket, looking very much the regal psychopath he was.

“Tattle tale.”

With that mature repartee Peter jumped out of the window. Stiles stalked up to it, shutting it with a bang. He really should invest in a better lock, he thought. Maybe he would be able to talk his dad into getting bulletproof windows. Werewolves probably wouldn’t be able to get through that. Possibly... he should research that.

He glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand and groaned. Four thirty am, freaking great.. He was too keyed up to go back to sleep, his brain going haywire. He knew any hope of sleep was long gone now. He might as well take a shower to get rid of the creepy crawly feeling after he woke up in bed with Peter. On a second thought, he should change the sheets too. Could never be too careful, who knew what sort of diseases Peter carried. God forbid his crazy would rub off on Stiles.

+1. **Derek**

Stiles woke up to the sensation of fingers trailing up and down his spine. 

He made a soft sound as he woke up, fighting his brain for that brief, peaceful feeling of waking up without thinking, of just being. He rarely got to experience it and this time he was thwarted by the questing fingers on his back. That’s when everything came back to him.

He opened his eyes and looked at Derek who lay just inches away from him. He looked at Stiles with a soft, content look, the stubble dark on his jaw, his lips parted slightly. He was sporting the most amazing bed head Stiles has ever seen on him, his thick (soft, silky hair, his mind supplied) hair sticking in every direction.

“Good morning.”

Stiles sucked in a sharp breath. Derek’s voice was all rough and deep, sleep still clinging to it. It sounded intimate in the small space between them. Intimate and reassuring, shooting a bullet of arousal through Stiles.

He brought his hand to Derek’s face, cupping his cheek and closing the space between them, pressing a kiss to Derek’s parted lips. He could do that now, he could swipe his tongue across Derek’s lips, slide his hand in Derek’s hair and moan as Derek deepened the kiss, the hand he had on Stiles’ back bringing them closer together, their bodies fitting together.

“Morning,” Stiles breathed as they pulled apart.

Derek smiled at that, slow and small and it made Stiles’ heart beat harder against his chest. He still couldn’t believe it happened, still didn’t comprehend that he and Derek finally were together, able to touch one another without the pretence of shoving into walls, of saving and annoying.

Stiles stayed the night, the two of them falling into Derek’s bed, kissing until they were out of breath, their hands roaming over bodies, laying close until they fell asleep. It was the first time he woke up next to Derek and he didn’t think he would ever get used to the newness of it, the rush of it.

They laid in bed, acquainting themselves with their bodies and mouths until they heard the door slam close as the pack came into the house for their afternoon meeting. Derek got up from the bed, offering his hand to help pull Stiles up. His hands came to rest at the small of Stiles’ back as he leaned to press a kiss to Stiles’ pulse point.

“Ready to face the pups?”

“Oh please, I was born ready.”

Derek smirked at that, giving Stiles a thorough once over.

“I have no doubt about that.”

The blush Stiles felt blossom on his cheeks spread down his chest, making him grateful he had a shirt on. He really didn’t want Erica – or worse yet, Peter – to comment on that.


End file.
